PowerPoint Slideshow about 'Thinking like a journalist to bring your posts to life' - kare

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The Piper Cub buzzes back into view, flying just 200 feet over the waves, its red-lettered banner unfurled behind. All afternoon it’s been crisscrossing the cloudless sky. Every day, the same plane, same offer: KEN’S MAINE CLAMBAKE – $19.95. When I first started coming here, the price was $8.99. Back then I could read it without my glasses.

My host, the 37-year-old Bedouin tribal leader Sheikh Ahmed Hashem, had served me so many glasses of sweet tea that I had lost count. It was a hot afternoon in early July, and we were sitting on the floor of his compound in WadiFeiran, a remote village deep within Egypt’s Sinai Peninsula. A single electrical cable connects the settlement’s squat cement houses; a single road runs through the surrounding mountains to the outside world. Everything felt unhurried, including Hashem’s explanation, via a translator, of his people’s complaints against the Egyptian government. But when I asked why the local Bedouin had started kidnapping tourists, he was quick to correct me: “It isn’t kidnapping. It is a tourist safari.”

Our first walk of the season down that path—a barefoot trudge weighed down by sloshing coolers and salt-scarred beach chairs—may be the happiest moment of my year. That it requires a bit of effort and patience only adds to the drama. The tallgrass feels like some magical green barrier that must be breached, while the slight incline of the dune means you can hear and smell the ocean before you actually see it.

When I had finished my own tea, Hashem agreed to take me to the area where Esperanza and Supe had been held. We got in his truck and drove for about an hour before parking along a stretch of sand at the base of the mountains. Once brush was gathered for a fire and water was set to boil, we sat down on the ground, and Hashem introduced me to Attwa.